


the long night

by daintyamour



Series: Game Of Thrones season 8. [1]
Category: game of thrones
Genre: Battle of Winterfell, F/M, Fix It Fic, The Long Night, jonsa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daintyamour/pseuds/daintyamour
Summary: when jon finds a corpse amongst others in the battlefield with familiar fire-kissed hair.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Game Of Thrones season 8. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588681
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	1. battle of winterfell

**Author's Note:**

> so this is the long night rewritten with additional points that change the whole plot and satisfy jonsas.

With the wind whistling so eerily, everyone was shivering and standing on the tip of their toes, fearful of the fate that awaited them. Men were moving and chattering indistinctly while weapons clacked with each other making Sansa’s hairs erect with gooseflesh. Soldiers were getting in position while she was watching alongside Arya, a distance away from them.

The crackle of fire was the loudest thing in Winterfell before two ginormous dragons passed over her head roaring loudly— she still hasn’t gotten used to the sight of them and probably never will. 

A company of Unsullied warriors double march to join the formation, they all stand in disciplined columns right in front of a line of catapults, with stones and braziers by their sides. Right by their side, the entire Dothraki horde is mounted and impatiently waiting, swords drawn. Down where every soldier was preparing himself emotionally for whatever they were about to charge at in the middle of the freezing nights, Sam came up running towards Ed who looked looked him up and down. “Oh, for fuck's sake. You took your time” with a very tedious expression, which made Sam doubt his friend had ever been frightened in his life compared to how he was feeling. He was about to shit his pants. It was a waiting period long-lasting enough for a good sleep had they not been standing ready to face their deaths. A lone rider started approaching slowly amidst the darkness, and the fog that came with the long night catching the eye of none other than Davos who was straining to discern whose silhouette it was.

_Melisandre_. Who led her horse right in front of Jorah.

“Do you speak their tongue ?” She asks, which Jorah nods to. “They’re here.” The red woman and him take measure of one another. “Tell them to get back.” He spoke back to the Dothraki and returned an apprehensive gaze to the witch who positioned herself in front of the trenches. She clasps the curved wood in both her hands, her index fingers pressed against the cutting edge, with full concentration as she offers an incantation repeatedly, each time louder than the other until the whole row lit up. Causing everyone to take a few steps back with the sudden warmth that emerged out of the trenches.

Cheers and celebratory roars were traveling in a sea of Dothraki raising up their weapons as she made her way quietly past the soldiers and Jorah, reaching Greyworm who she gives a nod of approval to. “Valar Morghulis.” He nods back and says. “Valar Dohaeris.”

Northern soldiers lit the stones on the catapults and trebuchets, which arced like meteors over the heads of the soldiers, and were sent onto the fields where a lot of tumult was coming from. Hopefully battering the dead from long range as they approached. The wind grew to blow strongly. All that was a soft patter became a rumble of running feet as the army of the dead boiled forth the darkness, running at full tilt.

They came in like a wave, tidally. The unsullied pointed their spears at the wights, as did the Dothraki with their curved weapons, forming up and stabbing every monster that crashed over the trenches, the undead were shrieking piercingly while fire burned through them and northern men sliced their heads off their bodies.

Everyone marveled at how the dead possibly outnumbered them, but still braced themselves unimaginably against the onslaught. Many soldiers were abandoning out of fear and pushing their way through towards the gates of Winterfell.

“Stand your ground!” Screamed Brienne at the top of her lungs ordering the trembling men next to her to not move and fight valiantly. Drogon and Rhaegal above shot forth a wall of flame as they dove past, disintegrating a swath of weights who were trying to get past the trenches. Everyone looked up swiftly before resuming their fight, knocking off wights left and right who were bizarrely extremely strong.

Daenerys ascended whilst watching everyone of the undead burn. She scrutinizes all around her as she looks for her next line of attack. Rhaegal and Drogon swooped down repeatedly to provide close air support to the Unsullied, who were overwhelmed by the chaos.

Brienne commanded the northern army to draw their bows. “Loose!” The fire-lit bows got fired into the sea of wights who were still fighting their way to get past the Unsullied army. Then suddenly a ferocious gale of wind rolled out of the woods surfacing on top of the wights and the trenches blowing the fire out easily, leaving everyone in disorientation, whilst struggling against the powerful storm.

Meanwhile, Bran was warging in and out of the raven and reporting back to Theon who put the folks in charge in the picture by notifying them of the Night King’s endeavors. Arya who was still alongside her sister who had no battlefield experience but the battle of the bastards, when she had saved the day. This was different though. This fight was not against actual people. “Get to your room.” Sansa looked at her with wide eyes. “I'm not abandoning my people.” To her, northerners seeing her present with them, comforted them enough and gave them more hope, but disappearing out of dread is not very noble. “Take this and go.” Arya extends the hilt of a dragonstone dagger which Sansa stares at. “I’m not—

“Just take it Sansa.” She then accepts tentatively. “I don't know how to use it.”

“Stick them with the pointy end.” She looks at her younger sister who turns to face the battle and takes her how from her back, exhaling a long breath she’d held in her lungs unconsciously.

Jon was in the middle of the battlefield, next to Tormund, dismembering a wight with one great swing, then another. His face is exceedingly bloodied and he looks fatigued from the constant swings, a wight tackles him from behind, which causes him to fall and grunt as he cuts through the assailants. The wight wraps himself around him, which Tormund notices after he stops his berserk one-man show, he slays him from behind and continues on stabbing him everywhere until Jon gets up. They exchange weary looks and Jon gives him a reassuring pat in the back before making his way through more soldiers shouting for their lives.

Sansa walks towards her own room, where everyone agreed to keep the elderly and women with children due to the room being quite spacious, they couldn’t risk the crypts since Jon had told them about the possibility of him reviving the corpses— and since there were ancient Starks buried in there, they couldn’t fathom the thought. The door closes behind her and is locked by a guard outside, who also happened to be a skilled knight. She joins the crowd of women, children and elderly who were huddling in the room, along with Tyrion, Varys, Gilly and her son. Sansa took in the atmosphere and locked eyes with Varys who nodded her way. Tyrion was taking large gulps from his wineskin, and the baby Sam was crying while Gilly was shushing him while wiping away his tears.

“If I was out there right now...” Started Tyrion. “You’d die. There’s nothing you can do.” Everyone looked up at her. “You might be surprised at the lengths I'd go to avoid joining the Army of the Dead. I could think of no organization less suited to my talents.” She rolls her eyes and exhales loudly. “Witty remarks won't make a difference. That's why we're down here, none of us can do anything. It's the truth. It's the most heroic thing we can do now look the truth in the face.” Tears shone in her eyes as she looked away to try and hide them, sniffs covered the whole room that was lit with a few candles to not attract attention from the outside. She took a woman’s hand in her and reassured her. “We’ll be alright.” The woman thanked her and wiped her nose in her cloak.

“Relieve the archers!” Screamed Jaime. Soldiers and archers traded places, and then the battle commenced in the courtyard as the undead poured down from everywhere, mindlessly impaling themselves on the stakes of the defensive palisades. Archers start unleashing flaming arrows into the courtyard. More soldiers join the fray, swords in hand. Arya uses her spear to slice the head off of a wight, and then runs down the walkway and slashes another one. She expertly counters and gores a few more, then splits her spear in two, giving her a weapon in each hand. She fights her way up a stairway spinning, striking, blocks and kicks, dispatching wights with her Braavosi skills leaving Davos with his jaw to the floor as she exchanges a look with him and walks down the stairs.

An undead giant barges into the winterfell gates with its mighty club, sending soldiers flying across the courtyard. Some land on the palisades, impaled. Alys with her face streaked with blood, lets out a battle cry and charges at the giant, wielding her weapon. He reaches down and grabs her by the chest, his firm grip chokes the breath from her, her ribs crack as he raises her up to his face, crushing the life from her. Blood pours from her mouth as she pants for breath. She yells, and frees an arm to stab him in his eye with her sword, Her strength leaves her, just as the giant crumbles to the ground, shattering into broken shards. The undead continue to pour through the broken gate.

Her body lays on the ground of the courtyard inside the gates all bloodied, _lifeless_ , all you’d recognize her by is her red fire-kissed hair.

Back in the room, since the giant gave the wights a pass inside, they all got in and started murdering on sight. Soldiers were dying, those alive were getting overwhelmed by the number of the ghouls. The knight in front of Sansa’s chamber ran towards the couple of wights that appeared at the top of the hallway. He charged while screaming and two others came from behind stabbing him as he choked on his own blood and fell to the ground. A woman inside the room couldn’t stop herself from weeping as she heard the massacre ongoing outside. Missandei put her hand on the woman’s mouth and urged her to not make a sound.

Then once the wights’ roars were distant enough signaling everyone inside was safe. Sansa braced herself and marched towards the door. “Where do you think you’re going?” Asked her Tyrion while gripping her arm, she shrugged it off immediately. “I need to find my siblings. I can’t just sit here and try to bear losing them all over again. Not this time.”

“And what are you going to d—

She couldn’t hear the rest of whatever he was saying as she left the room and closed the door behind her, spotting right away the body of the knight who was guarding their door, she stared at it for a moment before gathering herself and thoughts and spraying towards a quiet passageway, she, only knew of. She opens a heavy door and enters a darkened library, pauses to catch her breath. And suddenly, she hears footsteps and spots a figure passing just beyond her, knocking into a pile of books. Another undead man enters, his sword dragging as he walks producing onomatopoeias through the library, causing chills of fright, Sansa moves from shelf to shelf, silently keeping out of sight of the wights shambling in the aisles. She makes her way past a shelf before encountering a wight walking toward her. she circles back swiftly, to another aisle to avoid a different wight— she couldn’t even be certain it was a different one. She quickly scampers across the open part of the room. She rounds a shelf and comes face-to-face with a wight, possibly the one who she was avoiding earlier. She panicked and before he could start shrieking she recalled the dragonglass Arya had given to her, she slipped it beneath the wight's chin, then removes it with no sound, he collapses onto her shoulder, thick black blood pouring from its chin and mouth. In disgust, she quietly him to the ground, then walks out the door, wiping her shoulder from the sticky liquid against the walls. Once on the other side, she silently uses her body weight to close it behind her.

And just as she lets out an exhale, a hand gets wrapped around her mouth and another knocks her on the head. Then everything goes black.


	2. the little dove is no more

_** SANSA’S POV** _

A horrendous stench filled my nose as I started gaining consciousness of my surroundings, my head burning awfully that I couldn’t see clearly for a moment. I was in a carriage that had just stopped, its rider talking indistinctly to someone outside. A lot of chatter and ambience outside drove my curiosity to pull the curtains very badly, so I did, only to find myself faced with a dull wall, so I moved to the other window which probably exposed a better view. Another wall.

Only this time, A wave of wind came through the small window transporting with it a smell of horse piss. I stuck my head out, to look around trying to examine where I was exactly but couldn’t recognize the alleyway at all. Whoever was speaking to the carriage’s rider started walking away from it, waving goodbye at him before... he got shot with a crossbow from the back. I gasped and covered my mouth, getting away from the window. They were probably going to murder me next. I was certainly next. My heart was beating exceedingly fast and I couldn’t breathe properly. I was in Winterfell last. _Where the hell am I now?_

“Oi!” Screamed the rider at his horses.

The ride was not so long since as soon as the horses started galloping, more loud chatter caught my attention, we were at a big city, I could see enormous walls from behind the almost see-through curtains. I kept quiet the whole time, trying to make up an escape plan, since I was so sure I was not getting out of this alive. Whoever kidnaps someone whilst everyone’s distracted by war couldn’t possibly have honorable intentions, why would an outsider save a girl from her own home?I stuck my head out as we moved through the slums of this city which smelled like misery, there was no tinge of earthy loam to the air, people were going about with their days as I noticed their clothing and hairstyles, and then the pot-shops along these alleys, the stench of pigsties and stables, tanner's sheds mixed in the smell of winesinks and brothels. The warmth that opposes the north’s chilling cold and white blowing wind. _I’m_ _in_ _King’s_ _Landing_.

And in Flea Bottom to be exact, the most downtrodden area of the city. “Awake I see. Could’ve let me know... I would’ve proposed to entertain you ay’ Stark girl?” I got startled and banged my head against my window when I saw him from the left door, his head stuck inside. “Easy now, I don’t want half the gold only.” He looks at me with enthusiasm. “I’m promised a good loan girl. I’d buy myself a whorehouse with it and satisfy my needs for life what’d you say to that ay’? Oh fuck it. I’m going to get a bowl of brown. Try to run away I’m gonna cut your legs lady Stark.”

“I’d remind you of the fact that you’re not getting away with this, but you possibly already know that.” I said infuriatingly. He gives me a smile that makes me want to eradicate him completely. “She’ll be so happy to see you.” He walked away right after that and I crossed my arms on my chest and took deep breaths in. He was very close to the carriage, so the possibility of me getting out and making it so far was close to nothing.How long has it been? What happened in Winterfell? And most importantly how are Jon, Arya and Bran? Brienne? All these questions in my head were going to drive me insane, why was everyone in the south acting like the dead weren’t coming for them next? Thoughts were filling my head making me anxious, I was in King’s Landing with a stranger, and the Kingsroad from home to the south takes a while, how long exactly have we been riding for?

“Do you know about the Pisswater prince story?” He climbed inside the carriage in front of me and sat while someone different rode us through the slums of the area. “What am I doing here?” He was eating from his bowl and staring out the window, completely ignoring my question. “Tyrion, your dear previous husband, gave this moniker to a tanner’s son from Pisswater Bend, who was swapped with prince Aegon Targaryen when he was a baby. This is where that tanner lived—“

“I don’t want to hear your horseshit, tell me why I’m here and what do you want from me?” I screamed in order to get him to stop rambling about something I couldn’t care less about. He couldn’t lock eyes with me in case he was one of those people who couldn’t stop themselves once they started talking, or better, he just had no idea why he abducted me and only did it for the gold as he said. I closed the curtains to minimize the smell that was plugging up my nose while making a disgusted face. He sniffed and looked at me. “Ah... Smoke, sweat, and shit. King's Landing, in short. If you have a good nose you can smell the treachery as well... You know, Cities are like women, each one has its own unique scent. Oldtown is as flowery as a perfumed dowager. Lannisport is a milkmaid, fresh and earthy, with woodsmoke in her hair. King's Landing reeks like some unwashed whore.”

I rested my head against my window and tried to think of something that made me feel safe, at home. I thought of snow. Wintry days of bluster and ice, soft and warm, covering the rich, deep wood in perfect white. I thought of Jon, and Arya and Bran. All of us together at home, just us in one room, reminiscing of when mother and father, Robb and Rickon were still around. All of us at feasts just having the time of our lives, I would worry about nothing else in the world. We rode up Aegon’s high hill, towards a castle that was the dirt under my nails and the haze of grey over my skin. I know the crooked hallways better than the tired facts I learned from Maester Luwin as a kid. He got me out of the carriage by force, even though I had an urge to fight back I knew it would’ve been totally useless with all the guards around the castle walls.

“If I’m going to walk towards her, at least let me walk with pride.” That almost sounded like a plead but I didn’t care, I prayed I’d never have to see her face again, but here we were, and it was absolutely unexpected, I need to seem like I was so sure of myself. “You’re not easy at all ay’.” I narrowed my eyes at him and he exhaled. “Alright. This is gonna be your only wish to come true by the way.”

I took a deep breath and walked into the great hall, where the Iron Throne is situated. Lots of painful memories started overcrowding my mind. I tried my best to ignore them, but it was all overwhelming; I recall how my body jarred with each blow i’d received right in this hall, in front of everyone. How the pain seared through my skin and took away every feeling of safety I ever had, how the humiliation killed every fragment of hope I had in me. I’d always been scared of what my past held, all the memories that seemed to never escape me. They were pin point needles, piercing my skin. I couldn't shout or fight back, I had to just endure the pain as every picture flashed through my mind. I was walking slowly scrutinizing the hall and strained to distinguish the silhouettes that were next to the grand throne— and most importantly, the woman on the throne. Her hair short now, facial features harder than they ever were. Her face wearing a cold smirk while her body wore a black leathery dress with chains. I would recognize her from miles away even. My nemesis’ mother, who cooperated into making my king’s landing séjour a living hell. The woman I swore I’d never forgive. Here I am standing right in front of her as she examined me thoroughly. A huge man wearing a scary armor stood right by her side, hand on his gigantic sword.

“Little dove.” I held my head high, unafraid of her. I’m not the girl I was. Not today.

“Your grace.” I fought back my pride. She could kill me instantly. What could stop her? She got up slowly and started walking towards me. I stood my ground and held eye contact with her. “You don’t look so enthusiastic about being back. What changed?”

“I don’t stand warmth much these days.” She was taken aback by my response for an instant and then gave me a half nod. “Last I saw you, you were like a fragile songbird locked in a cage. We could do with you whatever we ought to do. No one could interfere...” I held my breath in. “They are not going to save you. They’re all out of our way. I have your undead army to thank for that.” They can’t be dead, I don’t believe her, she’s trying to get the best out of me.

“If they won, they’re coming for you and your people as well. I don’t suppose you missed that part.” I answered, calmly, to which she nodded. “Perhaps we could come to an arrangement.” There was a long silence, fire crackling in the hall, next to her was probably her hand, dressed in all black, staring me up and down. I dare not say it out loud but this whole thing suited her. It’s like she was made to be a ruler and all of her kids sitting on the throne was just a waste of time for the seven kingdoms. She sat proudly and imposingly on that atrocious throne which only intensified her intimidating demeanor more.

“I’ve heard only great things about you. Daughter of a traitor. Another traitor helped you flee from King’s Landing on my son’s wedding, to the Vale— whom you sentenced to death in your own home afterwards. You’ve always been ungrateful. Fled Winterfell as well from the Boltons, and then you won it back alongside your bastard brother from a bolton whom you murdered as well. Your schemes and maneuverings were the main chatter in every kingdom... Not bad.”

Not going to lie, my repertory being narrated to me by the woman I despised the most in the world gave me a sense of satisfaction no other thing could give.

“The little dove is no more I presume, and I’ve learned enough to make differences. It’s good to see you, your grace.” As I spoke I also looked at the man next to her who looked like he was waiting for her signal to attack. “Do you know why you’re here Sansa ?”

I didn’t answer.

“Oh how I would’ve loved it had you been Joffrey’s murderer, I spent nights and nights thinking of how I was going to repay you back for taking my son away from me. But that murderous Tyrell whore confessed. And I wasn’t there to kill her with my bare hands. My fool of a brother made it an easy end for the hag...” That’s one thing off my back. Still doesn’t explain what I’m doing here.

“Your bastard brother refused to bend the knee. Why’s that?” Oh. This is about Jon.

“You could’ve asked him yourself and spared me the long trip.” Last time Jon and I saw each other, we were all discussing battle strategy before the war. Also abducting me from Winterfell during the battle to ask me why Jon couldn’t bend the knee to her is quite ridiculous. We had better things to think about, in a few we’d all be bending the knee to a night king. Wasn’t she terrified for her life? “I’m pretty certain we’re not going to rethink his choices anymore, considering his sister is captive just like the old days right at the moment. I wonder what his next step could be... Or I could just... Kill you right here and have him on his knees as he comes hopeful to find you alive and well. How would that be?”

“I assume that won’t matter if they’re all dead just as you had told me confidently earlier.” She stared at me for a moment, smirked, then turned to the big man next to her. “It’s so nice to see all of this. You’re a great pretender. For a woman that spent all her life being power-hungry and who acted like she was the all-mighty powerful... I truly pity you. You got betrayed, not once or twice, accidentally lost all those you cared about, and eventually drove the only person that cared enough about you to resent you. If my schemings were leading each conversation in the kingdoms I think we need to revisit your history. Arranging murders left and right, framing innocent people for crimes they did not commit, bringing militant theocracy onto your own people and when that didn’t work your way, you blew them all up. You conspired your way onto sitting on the iron thro—“

“Ser Gregor, take our beloved guest to her cell.” Gregor made a few steps towards me, each echoing into the hall making me shiver. “You will let me speak.” I said. “I do not wish to hear my achievements from your whore mouth. I did many things for which I’m proud of. I earned my seat in the capital. I was always destined to have it my way.”

“You tricked both Jon and the Targaryen queen into thinking that you were going to send the Lannister army to fight alongside everyone in the north, and you dare ask why he couldn’t bend the knee. I don’t believe you. You think you know how to play a game... but you’re unfortunately not good enough to win it. You’re the queen of a crumbling... kingdom, there’s nowhere to go but down. Your grace.” She looked extremely irked and even a hundred bottles couldn’t keep in her raging wrath right at the moment. Gregor took my arms firmly behind my back and lead me towards the end of the hall. I was not going to fight back, because this time I’m not scared of her. “Let’s see if they care about you as much as you think they do.” I heard her saying from her seat. “I’m Sansa Stark of Winterfell. The north’s walls will fall down before its people sit careless while their lady croaks in southern cells!” I screamed for her to hear me clearly, which she did considering she smirked at me. A smirk I only saw in my most ghastly nightmares.


End file.
